Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Afilu Behatzlachah

by Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

I was
recently sitting with some people and, as has happened so often in recent
months, someone started singing the very popular niggun, Ve’afilu Behastarah.
The moving words and tune never fail to soften the heart, providing a jolt of chizuk
and emunah, a reminder that Hashem is always in control.

A
learned Yerushalmi Yid, the sort who seems to be equipped with a
perpetual supply of joyful comments and uplifting remarks, was among those
sitting there. He took issue with the words. “Farvoss nisht ve’afilu sheloi
behastarah?” he asked. “Why are people singing that Hashem is found even in
the hidden? Sing that He is ever-present! Even when things are going good,
remember that it is a gift from Hashem!”

The Chassidic
song seeks to reinforce the reality that even in times of darkness and
concealment, Hashem is with us. It seeks to remind us that each nisayon
is ordained for us and that nothing occurs by happenstance. Even when our
situation is critical, we are not to forsake hope and faith, because what we
are seeing is not the whole story.

As
people of faith, we believe that the times of darkness are an illusion.
Struggles present a false image. There is a story behind the story. Everything
transpires for a greater purpose. Things are rarely as they appear to be. At
times, Hashem is in a position of hester, hidden from our view, but we
need to know that even when He is hidden, He is present.

The hester
is itself a hester, amask covering a mask.

As Purim
is upon us, I remembered the man’s comment, because, essentially, the song of Ve’afilu
Behastarah and its message are the song and message of Purim.

On the
first Purim after emerging from the abyss of suffering that consumed
most of his family, community and Chassidus, the Satmar Rebbe, Rav Yoel
Teitelbaum zt”l, called out, “It wasworth enduring the pain of
the war in order to be able to experience one more Purim, one more krias
megillah.”

The Rebbe’s
inspiring comment begs explanation. Why was Purim and Megillas Esther
singled out? What about the other mitzvos? Did meriting to perform every
daily, weekly, Shabbos and Yom Tov-related mitzvah one
more time not make life worth living?

Perhaps
we can understand that theRebbeselected this mitzvah in
order to make a point.

We live
in a world of hester, to be sure. But hester isn’t the reality.
Imagine when a blackout strikes. Your home is plunged into darkness, electronic
appliances sit useless, and light is provided by a few small candles and fading
flashlights. During the summer, there is no relief from the heat, and during
the winter, there is no relief from the cold.

However,
while experiencing a blackout, no one panics or worries about the future,
because they know that the power company is aware of the problem and, sooner or
later, power will be restored. In fact, some might even enjoy the power outage.
With the flashlights and candles for light, the extra blankets and sweatshirts
for warmth, and crackers and cheese for supper, it can become an adventure.

There is
a Kabbalistic term, “hamtokas hadinim beshorosham,” which relates
to the ability to contemplate the source from where punishment comes and,
through that, to behold its inherent sweetness. The ability to reach this level
enables a person to negotiate the harshness of the punishment he is
experiencing.

On Purim,
we see events stripped down to their core and we contemplate that under the
challenge lies the posuk of “Ahavti eschem omar Hashem,”which
fuels the whole creation. Through the avodah and limudim of Purim,
we are mamtik the dinim, so that by the end of Purim - as
we manage one more lechayim with the strains of music quieting down in
the background, and as the table is covered with the remnants of a festive seudah
and the tablecloth is stained with purple wine - in our minds there are no more
dinim.

It can
be the struggle of a lifetime. Small people see only “hastarah” and are
unable to get past that. Great people see the “ohr.” The rest of us fall
somewhere in between, feeling pain and wondering where the blessing is hidden.

The megillah
states that following the miraculous turn of events, “LaYehudim hoysah orah
vesimcha vesasson vikor - The Jews had light, joy and splendor.” Chazal
teach that the posuk is hinting at something deeper that the Jews won in
the battle: “orah zu Torah, simcha zu Yom Tov, sasson zu milah, yikor zeh
tefillin.”

If the posuk
is hinting to Torah, Yom Tov, milah and tefillin, why
doesn’t it state that directly and say, “LaYehudim hoysah Torah, Yom Tov,
milah utefillin”?

Perhaps
we can answer that after experiencing the miracles of Purim, the Jews
appreciated the depth of the mitzvos and saw the light in Torah, the joy
in Yom Tov and milah, and the splendor of tefillin. Those
were no longer esoteric concepts, but were deeply felt by all. [See Sefas Emes
year 648]

Rav
Mordechai Pogramansky zt”l was a tremendous source of chizuk to talmidim
of the olam haTorah during the Second World War. He once posed a
question. Dovid Hamelech asks in Tehillim (139:7), “Ana eileich
meiruchecha ve’ana miponecha evrach - Where shall I go from Your spirit and
where shall I flee from Your presence?”

He
explained that people who live in times of difficulty and travail merit
experiencing a different type of emunah, one that is deeper than yediah.
Dovid Hamelech’s belief was such that he greeted good news and disturbing news
with the same reaction: “Kos yeshuos esa uvesheim Hashem ekra.” He
praised the pains and travails he experienced just as he praised the salvations
Hashem granted him, as the posuk says, “Tzorah veyagonemtza
uvesheim Hashem ekra.” Amazingly, both thanksgiving and mourning led him to
the same place.

And so,
Dovid Hamelech longed to experience this dimension of faith, but it was simply
too bright in front of him, and he couldn’t locate the darkness from which he
would live with emunah. So he wondered, “Ana eileich, where can I
flee from His presence? Where is the realm where my yediah will be
replaced by emunah?”

Rav
Pogramansky turned to his talmidim and urged them to take advantage of
the historic darkness they were experiencing and to grasp onto emunah
and never let go.

The
Vilna Gaon famously says that every posuk in Megillas Esther
contributes to the greatness of the neis. The first part of the megillah
details the increasing wealth, power and prestige of Achashveirosh, which
all contributed to the creation of more hester. The further they seemed
to be from geulah and the more the escape from golus seemed to be
distant from the Jews in that period, the more the opportunity for emunah
increased. The success of Achashveirosh in effect produced the neis,
because it created the climate in which emunah could bring about a yeshuah.

In
Mordechai’s confident cry to Esther, “Revach vehatzolah ya’amod laYehudim
mimakom achier” was evident the conviction that everything they were
experiencing was a mask, from which those who are baalei emunah hear the
eternal cry of Knesses Yisroel.

Mordechai
had the conviction to tell Esther with definite clarity that they were going to
be saved. The only question was whether Esther would play a role in that
salvation. He was the epitome of a baal bitachon and despite the evident
hester, Mordechai knew that Hashem was there, afilu b’hastarah.

Generations
of Yidden left this world with the posuk of yichud Hashem
and perfect faith on their lips. Shema Yisroel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad.
That is our national mantra. We cover our eyes when we say it to hint at the
fact that we can’t yet see this reality, but we already feel it.

Rav
Mordechai Schwab zt”l arrived in America after years on the run,
escaping dangerous Europe, enduring the perilous trip to Shanghai, and rising
above the obstacles of establishing a young family in that inhospitable
climate. Finally, as “the tzaddik sought to settle in peace,” his
three-year-old son, Boruch Ber, named for Rav Schwab’s rebbi, was
tragically killed in a car accident. The levayah was held on Erev
Shabbos. A few war survivors gathered to provide comfort.

Just
before the aron was lowered into the ground, Rav Schwab leaned over and
addressed the niftar, his beloved son. “Boruch Ber’l,” he said, “go
before the Kisei Hakavod and tell them what I taught you. Show them what
you learned while you were here: ShemaYisroel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem
Echad.”

Rav
Schwab was proclaiming yichud Hashem in the darkest time. He was
proclaiming that the Oneness that defines happy and joyful times is the same
Oneness of difficult times. He seized a moment of total darkness, with his eyes
covered as never before, to proclaim emunah. In a time of hester,
he tore away the mask.

Ourforefathers
toiled in hardship and privation, working under conditions and in situations we
couldn’t even fathom, yet they remained besimcha. They focused on the
truth. In our comfortable world, we take so much for granted, and that itself
creates a wall that makes it difficult to feel joy. They expected nothing and
took pleasure in each small bit of Divine favor.

They
knew that whatever Hashemgives us is a gift. They rejoiced with what
they had - good health, family, friends and life itself - and thus merited
appreciating what they received.

We can
also reach that level of seeing, perceiving and feeling His blessings. We can
be besimcha. It’s a deeper avodah than simply cranking up loud
music, but it’s much more meaningful and long-lasting.

This
might be what the Satmar Rebbe meant. All the hardships and pain he had
suffered, hester behind hester, had been worth it for Purim,
meaning that in the face of the revelation of the ultimate light, it became
clear that it was never dark.

On Purim,
we don’t say, “Es vet zein gut. It will be good.” We say, “It was always
good.”

LaYehudim
hoysah orah. They were flooded with a light, a powerful
beacon revealing that all along it had been nothing but good.

At a Purimseudah one year, Rav Avigdor Miller zt”l commented on the words
of the song being sung, “Ah gantz yohr freilach zol men zein.” He
wondered what would be left after Purim. How would they be able to
bottle up the emotion they were feeling at that moment and keep a supply handy
for use in time of need?

He
explained that on Purim, through contemplation, simcha, yayin and
the story of the neis, one develops recognition for a fundamental truth:
Hashem is the oheiv amo Yisroel. He loves us.

“That’s
the second yesod in the Torah,” Rav Miller stated. “The first is that
Hashem made the world and the second is that He loves His people. The happiness
comes when you realize that Hashem is thinking about you. He doesn’t only care
for the nation as whole, but for each individual.”

Rav
Miller looked around the table and pointed to a man on his right and another on
his left. “You see these men here? Think about them for a moment. Each one is a
tzelem Elokim. Hashemis saying, ‘Those are my sons!’ He loves us
more than any mother loves her child. That’s the happiness in life. There is no
greater joy. It’s true all year round, but today we see it clearly. Now we
internalize this truth and then we can be freilachahgantz
yohr.”

It’s the
song that follows Ve’afilu Behastarah, which is for before Purim.
After spending the day experiencing the Yom Tov and its mitzvos
and re-immersing ourselves in the story of Megillas Esther and its
lessons, and after a day spent singing Shoshanas Yaakov and LaYehudim
hoysah orah, we appreciate that “Afilu behatzlachah
bevadai gam shom nimtza Hashem Yisborach.”

By the
time the sun sets this Purim, we will, with Hashem’s help, be singing a
new song, that of Ah Gantz Yohr Freilach, for we will see Hashem even
where there is hastarah.